


world's #1 dad;

by bloodynargles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Father's Day, Father-Daughter Relationship, hap father's day jack i hope u hurt, jack ana and rein are mentioned, no no i dont ily, this is sad im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 00:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11242548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodynargles/pseuds/bloodynargles
Summary: If she had to pick a date that she felt the worst on every year, it would be this one. Nevermind the yearly strike of the lump in her throat, the day when the death of her father, her family, is all over her television screen.





	world's #1 dad;

**Author's Note:**

> yo warning for the SADS
> 
> im sorry  
> i lov elettra

If she had to pick a date that she felt the worst on every year, it would be this one. Nevermind the yearly strike of the lump in her throat, the day when the death of her father, her _family_ , is all over her television screen.

She knows that there's a box buried somewhere in the closet under the stairs that has all the presents he ever received and never took to work inside. She knows that if she ever had the courage to open it, well, she doesn't have that courage now. Instead she's just staring numbly at cups with the words 'World's #1 Dad' plastered all over them in large bold letters, and the people around her are _happy_ and they don't know what its like to come out of an english class and have your world crumble at your feet moments later. She hopes they never do.

She hopes that they never know what its like to stand in front of a grave without a body in it and pour your heart out to a slab of engraved stone.

 

Standing alone at a bus stop in the rain after staring at a mug for so long that it captured one of the shop attendants worry, a soft pat on the shoulder and her gaze had fallen on the young woman. Probably older than her but not by much, brown eyes had looked at her with somewhat concern – but not for the mugs. She'd feigned a soft laugh and claimed that she was trying to remember what coffee her dad had liked best. The way she spoke the words with ease had comforted the other enough for them to let her be, another pat on her forearm as they went, fading into the mass of people browsing the wares of this small, human-run shop in the middle of the city she called home.

 

Her feet step onto the bus with a dull thud and she thinks that about sums up her day, everything loud but not loud enough, like she had pushed her own head underwater just because she liked how everything sounded. Like a rumble of crashing thunder from miles away that you can barely hear, her whole day going by just like that until the city slowed down in the evening, warm light emitting from shop windows and homes. Tall apartment buildings going by, fairy lights wrapped around the balcony of one of the floors, the soft blue light twinkling in the dark cast that the storm rolling over had set upon them. Her eyes are set on the streets outside, elbow leaning on the arm rest, holding up her head as she watches the city go by in what seems like seconds. Makes it look like lives go by in just as short of a time, birth, death, all in the same sequence of seconds, time just blinking by before you know it. Before you can catch up to it.

Before you can get out of a building rigged with explosives.

 

Home is warm, the light flicking on as she steps through the door and into the narrow hallway, subconsciously taking off her coat and hanging it up to dry, small droplets of water rolling off of it and onto the wall. Half of her mind telling her to make Teddy clean up the dirt he'd dragged in the night previous, mud tracks from his boots dried into the soft wooden floor. Her own shoes are pulled from her feet before she numbly wanders into the kitchen, setting the somewhat eco-friendly bags on the counter and reaching up to the cabinet to pull out the only mug she'd brought with her from home. Supposes its seen some wear, keeping her warm during the times she'd gotten sick, huddled into herself, trying to pull the heat from the cup itself. Trying.

The kettle clicks off and pulls her from her thoughts, hands pushing herself away from the counter she had leaned back on before pouring the water into her cup, dropping the teabag afterwards. Her fondness of tea stemming from a woman she'd _adored_ as a child, the woman who'd taught her words of her own language after she'd promised to do her homework first. An aunt, a grandmother – a _friend_. Someone she missed as much as she missed her father. Maybe more than she missed her mother.

 

It was an odd relationship they had, after dad had died, it was like her mother had a piece missing, and no matter how hard she tried to pretend that it wasn't, the damage of losing him was obvious. Devastating. She knows that they had spoken about what would happen if either died first, the field in which they worked was _dangerous_ , people in high positions like theirs were prone to dying. Her mother thought she would die first. That dad could raise her on his own and that they'd be _fine_. She never weighed up the chances that it wouldn't be her. Her mother was never a dismissive person, got to a high ranking military position before she slinked off into the shadows after the war was over. She'd been a spy for six years, worked under dad almost all of that time. Mama was never dismissive, she just doubts she could stomach thinking about a world without her father in it.

And when it happened? It broke her. Tore her world apart and left standing in the middle was a small, broken, fifteen year-old reminder. She didn't leave, stayed until her daughter wanted to go, wanted to move out and experience the world for herself. She knows that her mother didn't want to be a handicap to her independence, she _understands_ why she only left a phone number and a set of instructions, with a note for her to memorize them. To keep her brain healthy, it said. Three years can go by quickly, sometimes even faster than five.

 

Its late into the night before Teddy gets home, boots shoved into the same corner they always are and his weight plopped down next to her, arm wrapped around her and she feels _warm_ for the first time all day. A homely comfort that settles her, hot tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks for the first time this year. It wont be the last, she knows that well enough. He sighs into her hair and she leans back, trying to bury herself further into him, to somewhat hide her shame of still failing to hold herself together after all this time. He mumbles something unintelligible to her and she falls asleep while he's holding her like that.

She dreams of being ten again, with bright, keen to learn eyes and she's twirling. Reinhardt spinning her around and somewhere she can hear her dad laughing, her small height making her look up at the happy scene in front of her, and some parts of his face don't look quite _right_ but it doesn't matter, it never matters because he was _there_ and if she really really wanted to she could touch him and tell him she loves him. Tell him she misses him. Because _god_ , she misses him so much.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> also ketti!!!!!! ketttiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii


End file.
